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Remembering Love | ||||||
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Category: Post-Hogwarts, Post-OotP Characters:Harry/Ginny, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley Genres: Action/Adventure, Fluff, General, Humor, Romance Warnings: None Rating: PG-13 Reviews: 14 Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years *** As Ginny beings to write a book on her husband, she also begins to remember how she became Mrs. Harry Potter. The story of how our favorite couple fell in love. Hitcount: Story Total: 16225; Chapter Total: 5274 Author's Notes: Chapter 2 already. I really like this chapter, because cookies (or biscuits, as the British call them) are some of my favorite things to make. I think one of the reasons why I like Ginny is because sometimes hse acts a lot like me - even though, sometimes, I make her act like me. :) |
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Ginny Weasley stared out the window as rain fell from the gray sky, wondering how much longer she had to survive in this house. It had been raining at the Burrow for almost three days, shutting everyone inside and wrapping them all in thick socks and sweaters. The rain made it unusually cold for the middle of July. Ginny sighed and pressed her forehead against the cold glass and wrapped her blanket around her tighter. She was glad for the big sill on her window so she could sit there and dream the dreary day away… “Ginny?” The redhead looked up and found Hermione Granger in the doorway, a dark maroon sweater handing off her frame, looking suspiciously like Ron’s sweater. “Your mum said to come down for lunch.” Ginny nodded and slid out of her warm cocoon, shivering as she pulled her yellow Weasley sweater over her head and following Hermione down the stairs into the bright, warm kitchen. A bowl of hot, creamy onion soup was placed in front her, a specialty of Mrs. Weasley on a cold day. Her stomach rumbled pleasantly as she scooped up a spoonful and let the hot liquid trickle down her throat, warming her up. “Bread, dear?” Mrs. Weasley asked, and Ginny nodded, her mouth full of soup again. Ron and Hermione were whispering together again. After a rocky start of their sixth year, the two had finally gotten their act together and admitted to fancying each other in late April of that year. They had now been dating for almost three months, and they were closer than ever. They still fought, but not as often, and not quite so loudly. But Ginny still wondered what they were talking about in their hurried words and late night conversations. It had to be about Harry. Harry. The name brought a small smile to her face as she sipped her soup. After five years of him not noticing her, they had become close friends over the past year. With everything happening with Ron and Hermione, both needed an extra friend, and the two were a perfect match. Ginny couldn’t recall how many times they had spent just talking in the common room after everyone else was asleep, both of them grateful for the chance to escape the world for a while. He had helped her so much during her O.W.L.S, even going so far as to begging Hermione to lend Ginny her notes so she could have an easier time. Ginny had never been more grateful, although half the time she couldn’t understand Hermione’s notes. But, she reminded herself as she finished the last of her soup, it was the thought that counted. He was such a sweet boy, Ginny thought wistfully as she filled the sink up with soapy water to wash the lunch dishes. He always knew the right things to say when she was feeling lousy and down. She would talk and he would listen, and then he would talk and she would listen. They didn’t give advice unless it was asked for. Most of the time, they both just needed someone to listen to what was going on in their heads without having to worry about someone trying to analyze it, or trying to sort it out for them. Besides, sometimes listening was even better than talking. Just to know what he was thinking was enough for Ginny. So he didn’t have to love her, or even like her that much, for that matter. The only thing that counted with Ginny was trust, and he trusted her with secrets that he hadn’t even told Ron and Hermione. And that was even better than love. -- While the rest of the Weasley’s went to Grimmauld Place the next day to help clean, Ginny opted to stay home and do the chores. She wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to spend the day alone. She set her alarm for early so she could get a head start on things. She was finished with her chores around eleven o’clock, giving her plenty of time to waste her day. But instead of wasting it, Ginny decided to bake. Baking always soothed her, and she soon got so concentrated on measuring flour and sugar for her cookies that she forgot everything, even the fact that it was still raining. She dug out some old Witch Weekly magazines and turned on the Wireless, smiling when Days of Destiny came on. She settled back and began to read an article called “Getting the Perfect Skin”. Merlin knew she had enough freckles, and no tan could take them away. As she was pulling her first batch of biscuits from the oven, there was a loud knock on the door. Ginny peered out the kitchen window, trying to see who was on the porch, but the only thing she saw was a cloaked figure, dripping with rain. Biting her lip with uncertainty, she opened the door slowly - Only to find the uncertain face of Harry Potter looking back at her. Her face immediately brightened. “Harry!” she cried, and threw the door open, pulling him into a tight hug. Harry laughed and hugged her back, while Ginny marveled at how warm he was even when he was soaked. “What are you doing here?” she asked, pulling away to smile at him. He grinned sheepishly. “I suppose I should have owled first, but I couldn’t stand another day in that house. I got permission from Dumbledore to stay here… if that’s alright with your parents.” Ginny swatted him on the arm. “Of course it’ll be alright. You know Mum loves you.” She tugged on his cloak. “Now come inside, before you catch cold. Give my your cloak, and you go change into something warm.” He tugged his trunk inside and hug his cloak on the hanger before disappearing up the stairs to Ron’s room, presumably to shower and change. By the time Harry got back, Ginny had hot tea waiting and a plate of still warm biscuits for the two of them to share waiting in front of the fire. He grinned at her and pulled his emerald sweater over his gray t-shirt before plopping down on the couch next to her, snatching up a biscuit in the process. “These are good,” he commented once he swallowed. “Did your mum make them?” “No, I did.” “I didn’t know you could cook.” He looked surprised. She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yeah. I love to cook. Well, bake, mostly, sweet things, because people always gobble them up, and it makes me feel good. Mum taught me how to bake almost anything before I turned eleven.” He laughed and took another one. “So, what happened that drove you away from your aunt and uncle?” Ginny asked, nibbling on a biscuit. Harry shrugged, taking a long drink from his tea. “They were just… I don’t know, just being themselves, I guess. I couldn’t take it anymore.” He looked over at her with a small smile. “But now I won’t ever have to see them again.” Ginny laughed. The timer went off in the kitchen, signaling another batch of biscuits done. Ginny excused herself to go get them, but Harry followed her into the kitchen. He stole a piping hot one from the cooling rack as she placed it there, juggling it between his fingers. “I don’t know what you put in these, Ginny, but they’re really good. I can’t seem to stop eating them.” “Maybe there’s some addictive ingredient I put in there, and you just don’t know about it,” Ginny said evasively, knowing exactly what was in those biscuits that made them different than the ones he probably had at the Dursley’s. “What is it?” he asked, his mouth full. She shrugged shyly. “Friendship and love,” she answered quickly, not turning from the cooling rack. “I don’t think you get much of that at the Dursley’s.” She heard him sigh. “No, not really.” his voice was soft. She turned and immediately felt guilty for putting such a lost expression on his face. “I didn’t mean to-” “Ginny, it’s alright,” he said, effectively cutting her off. “You didn’t mean anything by it. I’m glad you made them with friendship and love.” He grinned at her and popped the rest of the biscuit in his mouth. She let a small smile slip onto her face as she finished the last batch of biscuits. The continued talking until they were done, and Harry looked at Ginny slyly. “Ginny.” She looked up at him. “Yes?” “Teach me how to make biscuits,” he said, his eyes sparkling behind his glasses. “With friendship and love. Aunt Petunia never let me make sweet things, because she thought that I would eat them all.” His eyes would have never let her say no. Her face fell into a grin as she nodded. What could the harm be, teaching him how to make biscuits full of friendship and love? |
| Reviews 14 |
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